Community Service Ch. 05

"Mmmm, yes. But it's just as well -- that's all I can say ... Or else we'd have yet another reason, to cane his milk-white, scrawny bare bum, wouldn't we, Karen?" said C.S.O. Linda, as she chidingly pushed my right cheek with the ball of her topmost, ankle-crossed foot: once, twice, and a third time; a little more forcefully, each time, for added emphasis.

Then, still looking at me, C.S.O. Linda suddenly laughed. "Ha ha ha! If double-oh-seven had been as heavy-handed with the coffee, as he was with the Kolour Kind detergent, yesterday, we'd both be on a caffeine high for the next fortnight!"

"Ha ha ha ha!" laughed C.S.O. Karen. "Oh, yes -- and that reminds me, Lindz!" she exclaimed. "I almost forgot: The hundred pairs of socks that Miss Pardew brought in, yesterday. Canford High Year Five schoolgirls' sports socks. Miss Pardew said she'll be here at four o'clock this afternoon to collect them. Sock Boy will have to give those socks top priority, Lindz, just as soon as we've finished with him in here," she said as she then suddenly cupped my nostrils in the undersides of the socked toes of her shoulder-perched, topmost foot.

Taken by surprise, I'd got a whiff -- and, what an awful stink! -- before I urgently whipped my face away to the right ... towards C.S.O. Linda's waiting, predatory foot.

"Are you seeing Greg, tonight, Lindz," asked C.S.O. Karen conversationally. "I was thinking ... if you haven't made any plans to go anywhere, I thought we could get Simon and Greg to treat us to a nice burger in town, at Burger Heaven ... if you fancy it, Lindz?"

At C.S.O. Karen's mentioning Burger Heaven, I thought of the cheerful, lovely counter girl, Tina -- the heaven, of Burger Heaven. "Why the long face?" Tina had asked me, yesterday lunchtime when I had gone there during my lunch break. I intended to go back there, too, if I could, sometime later in the week. It might only have been my imagination -- wishful thinking! -- but, I couldn't shake the feeling, that Tina had been ... interested, in me. Anyways, I had to find out for sure.

"Okay, Karen," agreed C.S.O. Linda brightly. "That would be great! You know me -- I'm always up for a burger! I'll give Greg a bell later," she said as she then suddenly cupped my nostrils in the undersides of the socked toes of her shoulder-perched, topmost foot.

And, taken by surprise for a second time, I'd got a whiff of them -- and, what a horrible stink! -- before I urgently whipped my face away to the left ... back into the reach of C.S.O. Karen's waiting, predatory foot.

Immediately, C.S.O. Karen cupped my nostrils in the undersides of the socked toes of her shoulder-perched, topmost foot.

But I was ready, this time.

I whipped my face to my right ... back into the reach of C.S.O. Linda's waiting, predatory foot.

Immediately, C.S.O. Linda cupped my nostrils in the undersides of the socked toes of her shoulder-perched, topmost foot.

And I was ready this time, too ... But I was outraged -- apoplectic! -- and I blew my top.

Pushed well past the limits of my tolerance, tormented beyond endurance, I yelled at C.S.O. Linda, "Stop that! Just stop it! I've said I'll make your coffee, and I'll even be your damn footrest -- if that will keep me away from Mrs Newlove. But I've got to draw the line somewhere. And this is it! I'm not going to smell your stinky feet! I'm not! I mean it! I'm not going to—"

"Oh, but you will, David," said C.S.O. Karen, confidently ... assuredly.

"And I'm telling you now, that I won't! This is it: The line. The line I won't cross. You can cane me -- cane me as much as you want! I don't care! You can both use me as your damn footrest, while you drink your damn coffee. And you can even handcuff me to Mrs Newlove's recliner again -- I don't care! She's already stuffed her dirty, cheesy socks into my mouth, and the horrible taste is still there, even now -- so she might as well have her damn tongue-bath, too!

"So, there! You can do what the hell you want -- Miss Karen, and Miss Linda. But, I am not, repeat, not, going to kneel here, and—"

"Oh, but you will, David," repeated C.S.O. Karen, confidently ... assuredly.

I didn't know what C.S.O. Karen had in mind. But, whatever it was, it wasn't going to work. I was adamant, about that. Adamant!

"Have you any idea, any idea at all, double-oh-seven, just how much trouble you are in, from your insolent outburst?" asked C.S.O. Linda, icily. "I promise you now, that I will use every means at my disposal, to put a civil tongue in your head."

Well, Miss Linda, I thought. You might put a civil tongue in my head. But, there is no way, I thought, no way, that I'm going to kneel at your feet, for you and C.S.O. Karen to put your stinky toes over my nostrils while you drink your damn coffee ...

Until C.S.O. Karen plucked her walkie-talkie from her utility belt ...

There came the crackling sound of radio static, as C.S.O. Karen switched the device on.

C.S.O. Karen then leisurely recrossed her ankles on 'her' shoulder, and she swung her now topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot right in front of my face, and cupped my nostrils in the undersides of her socked toes.

Urgently, so as not to inhale the awful stink, I whipped my face away, to my right ... towards C.S.O. Linda's waiting, predatory foot.

"Ma'am, this is C.S.O. Karen. I'm speaking from the office, in the Sock Room. C.S.O. Linda is also present, ma'am. Over."

C.S.O. Linda also leisurely recrossed her ankles on 'her' shoulder. And she also swung her now topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot right in front of my face, and cupped my nostrils in the undersides of her socked toes.

Urgently, so as not inhale the horrible stink, I whipped my face away, to my left ... back towards C.S.O. Karen's waiting, predatory foot.

"Yes, C.S.O. Karen?" came the voice of the Community Service Liaison Officer, Harriet Harmman, in reply. "You are speaking from the Sock Room, you say? So I assume you must have a reason for communicating via walkie-talkie, instead of by telephone? Go ahead, C.S.O. Karen. Over."

C.S.O. Karen's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot immediately pounced again, firmly cupping my nostrils in the undersides of her socked toes.

And, again, so as to avoid inhaling the awful smell, I urgently whipped my face away, to my right ... back towards C.S.O. Linda's waiting, predatory foot.

"Yes, ma'am, that's right," replied C.S.O. Karen. "A disciplinary matter has come up, involving community servant David double-oh-seven -- he'll be in your files, ma'am, as David Smith, aged eighteen. He is also present, ma'am, because I want him to listen in to both sides of our conversation. Over."

C.S.O. Linda's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot immediately pounced again, too, firmly cupping my nostrils in the undersides of her socked toes.

And, again, so as to avoid inhaling the horrible smell, I urgently whipped my face away, to my left ... back towards C.S.O. Karen's waiting, predatory foot.

"I see, C.S.O. Karen ... Oh, so it's him again, is it? I remember community servant David double-oh-seven very well, very well indeed. You brought him to me barely an hour ago, concerning another disciplinary issue. He'd failed to turn up for his duties at the Sock Room. And when you went to his home to pick him up, not only, did he grossly and repeatedly insult both yourself and C.S.O. Linda, but he then refused to accompany you both back to the Sock Room, necessitating in your having to forcibly remove him from his bed. And, as his actions were clearly sanctionable, I fined him, by stopping his next two weeks' Unemployment Benefit payments. Over."

C.S.O. Karen's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot was ready and waiting, and pounced immediately. The undersides of her socked toes, firmly cupping my nostrils; her toes, clutching tightly, more determinedly.

Urgently, before I would have to inhale the awful stink, I wrenched my face away, to my right ... back towards C.S.O. Linda's waiting, predatory foot.

"Yes, ma'am. And now, community servant David double-oh-seven is being uncooperative again. He is refusing to comply, ma'am, with the chastisement methods that C.S.O. Linda and I see fit to impose upon him. Over."

C.S.O. Linda's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot was also ready and waiting, and pounced immediately. The undersides of her socked toes, firmly cupping my nostrils; her toes, gripping powerfully, more insistently.

Urgently, before I would have to inhale the horrible stink, I wrenched my face away, to my left ... back towards C.S.O. Karen's waiting, predatory foot.

Oh, I thought ... They could keep this up all day long, these two, if they wanted. But so could I. And, they would give in, before I did! Because, there was no way, no way, that I was going to kneel here, and compliantly sniff their stinky feet, while they sat there, drinking their coffee! No way!

"Oh, is he, by heaven! So ... what is it you have in mind, C.S.O. Karen? Over."

C.S.O. Karen's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot pounced, yet again.

And, yet again, I urgently diverted my face, to my right ... back to where C.S.O. Linda's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot, was ready and waiting.

"Well, ma'am, it has been reported to us, by a Sock Room frequenter, a Mrs Norma Newlove, that community servant David double-oh-seven was in the Lord Nelson pub last night, having a drink with his older brother, John -- he'll be in your files, ma'am, as John Smith, aged nineteen. Over."

C.S.O. Linda's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot immediately pounced, yet again; her toes, gripping and clutching at my "uncooperative" nose ... And I was starting to get fed up of this nonsense -- really fed up!

But, yet again, I resolutely wrenched my face away, to my left ... back to where C.S.O. Karen's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot was poised, ready and waiting.

But now, I had cause for pause ... C.S.O. Karen had just mentioned my brother John. But why? John had nothing to do with this! Why was he being brought into this?

"Well, C.S.O. Karen," replied the Liaison Officer, dryly, "it's not a sanctionable offence, for a community servant to have a drink in a pub ... not yet, anyway. Over."

C.S.O. Karen's left-shoulder perched, topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot immediately pounced again, and with equal resolution; her toes, holding onto my nose with a startlingly powerful grip ... If she also, was getting fed up with this nonsense, she was certainly showing no sign of it.

And, again, I wrenched my face away, to my right ... back to where C.S.O. Linda's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot was poised, ready and waiting.

"No, ma'am ... But sedition is. Over."

And now, I had further cause for pause ... I didn't like the sound of that word -- 'sedition' -- one little bit.

"C.S.O. Karen, did I just hear you say, 'sedition'? Over."

C.S.O. Linda's right-shoulder perched, topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot, pounced yet again.

And, yet again, I pulled my face away from the undersides of C.S.O. Linda's nostril-cupping, socked toes ... Diverting my face back to the left; back to where C.S.O. Karen's topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot was poised, ready and waiting ...

But, less forcibly -- half-hearted, almost -- this time.

Because I now had the most terrible, sinking feeling. It was a gut-gnawing feeling, of inescapable, doom-laden dread. A feeling, of impending, and unavoidable disaster.

"Yes, ma'am, you did. That is what me and C.S.O. Linda suspect John Smith to be guilty of, ma'am. We don't think community servant David double-oh-seven would have the guts, ma'am, to rebel against us -- not right off his own bat. He must have had some moral support. We believe that it is his seditious brother, John, who is at the bottom of this. That he must have been putting anti-establishment ideas into his easily-led younger brother's head, and that that is what has made him all uppity, ma'am. Over."

And now, I realised, that one word -- 'sedition' -- was going to change everything.

And that this had been, I now finally understood, the fiendishly astute C.S.O. Karen's angle, all along. And, why it was, that she had been so confident ... assured. Why it was, that she'd been so sure; so, no-doubt-about-it certain. It was because she'd had this ace up her sleeve, all along ... just waiting for the right moment to play it. To trump me.

"I see, C.S.O. Karen. Then this is a very serious matter. Very serious, indeed. So ... what is it that you propose, then? Over."

C.S.O. Karen leisurely recrossed her ankles on 'her' shoulder, again. This time, though, she didn't immediately cup my nostrils in the undersides of her yellow cotton ankle-socked toes ... Because she wanted my obedience, and my compliance ... right off my own bat. She just pointed her finger at her shoulder-perched, topmost foot, and silently mouthed the word: 'Sniff', before replying to the Liaison Officer.

"Ma'am, I've accessed Records on the office computer. And, according to his dossier, John Smith is currently working as a chef on one of the North Sea oil rigs -- Omega Three. He earns pretty good money, and, well ... Over."

C.S.O. Karen was still looking at me ... expectantly. And meaningfully pointing to her shoulder-perched, topmost foot ...and silently mouthing the word: 'Sniff'.

"And we could easily put a stop to that, couldn't we? And put a big spanner in his works, too, just for good measure ... If community servant David double-oh-seven won't come to heel? Is that, what you are saying, C.S.O. Karen? Over."

Yes. I knew, now, where the disturbingly perceptive -- insightful -- C.S.O. Karen was going with this. She had, I realised, unerringly found another weakness. She had detected, and homed-in on, another chink in my armour. She had discovered, and zeroed-in on, another ... vulnerability.

And she was mercilessly prising it wide open.

C.S.O. Karen knew, intuitively, that I wouldn't let John take the rap. She knew, that I wouldn't let him take the fall. She knew, that I wouldn't let her and her A.F.P. superiors, "put a big spanner in his works". Not ... if it was in my power to prevent it.

"Yes, ma'am. I was thinking, that we could remove John Smith from his well-paid chef's job on the oil rig. And we could helicopter him directly to the helipad at the Community Service Operations Centre, and, well ... Over."

C.S.O. Karen was still staring at me ... expectantly. And she was still pointing to her left-shoulder perched, topmost foot ... and she was still silently mouthing the word: 'Sniff'.

"Remove John Smith from his well-paid chef's job on the oil rig ... and assign him duties as a community servant? If community servant David double-oh-seven, either now, or at any time in the future, fails to bow to your authority, or refuses to comply with the methods of chastisement, as chosen by yourself and C.S.O. Linda? Is that, what you are saying, C.S.O. Karen? Over."

I'd heard enough ...

I knew when I was beat. I knew when to fold. I knew when to say, Yield! I knew when to throw in the towel ... When to wave the white flag.

C.S.O. Karen was still staring at me ... expectantly. She was still pointing to her left-shoulder perched, topmost foot ... and she was still silently mouthing the word: 'Sniff' ... But now, she was also splaying her socked toes, suggestively ... accommodatingly.

"Ma'am, that is exactly, what I am saying. It will be his brother John, who suffers the consequences ... If community servant David double-oh-seven won't come to heel ... And stay there. Over."

And now, I knew when to "come to heel", too ...

And so it was, that, by putting aside my own feelings -- my very sense of worth -- I managed to overcome my acute abhorrence, at submitting to such soul-destroying, under-the-heel subjugation ... and, that I finally obeyed C.S.O. Karen's dreadful, profoundly demoralising bidding.

Right off my own bat, I compliantly placed my nostrils under the ready-to-receive, accommodating toes of C.S.O. Karen's left-shoulder perched, topmost yellow cotton ankle-socked foot.

But, this time, when C.S.O. Karen's foot stink hit me, I did not urgently whip my face away, to my right, before I would have to inhale it.

Instead, I did, inhale it. Inhaled, C.S.O. Karen's foot odour. Inhaled, her awful, revolting, in-between-the-toes, socked foot scent ... And C.S.O. Karen smiled. Smiled, in the satisfaction of my having been successfully "brought to heel".

This was a living nightmare.

But it was my living nightmare -- not John's. John had meant well. John had only meant to help -- help me out of my living nightmare. But John had, to all intents and purposes, committed sedition -- had tried to undermine the authority of the Authoritarian Female Party. "Just don't go back." (to the Sock Room), John had advised me. But, John's advice, however well-intended, had turned out to be ... counter-productive.

And so John was now in great danger, not only of losing his well-paid chef's job on one of the North Sea oil rigs, but of losing everything -- even, his very sense of worth -- if he was assigned duties ... as a community servant.

Well, I couldn't allow that to happen.

Not only, would it absolutely ruin John, but it would also devastate Mum and Dad, too. And so, I had to keep John out of this -- out of this living nightmare.

And I could! It was in my power, to do so. In my gift.

Just as long, as I came "to heel" ... And stayed there.

Eventually, with the ball of her left-shoulder perched, topmost foot, C.S.O. Karen pushed my face to my right ... towards C.S.O. Linda's topmost, right-shoulder perched, waiting, predatory foot.

But C.S.O. Linda didn't pounce, this time. Because she knew, now, that there was no need to ... absolutely no need at all.

C.S.O. Linda knew, just as well as C.S.O. Karen knew, that I was beat. That I had folded. That I had said, Yield! That I had thrown in the towel That I was waving the white flag ... That I had "come to heel."

Casually, leisurely, C.S.O. Linda recrossed her ankles on 'her' shoulder. And then she cupped my nostrils in the undersides of the toes of her now topmost, yellow cotton ankle-socked foot.

But, this time, when C.S.O. Linda's foot stink hit me, I did not urgently whip my face away, to my left, before I would have to inhale it.

Instead, I did, inhale it. Inhaled, C.S.O. Linda's foot odour. Inhaled, her horrible, nauseating, in-between-the-toes, socked foot scent ... And C.S.O. Linda smirked, in triumph. Smirked, triumphantly, at the gratifying sight of my having been successfully brought to a state of pathetic, under-the-heel submission ... All that remained, was for her to successfully "put a civil tongue" in my head.

"Excellent thinking, C.S.O. Karen!" praised the Liaison Officer, Harriet Harmman, effusively. "You are on the fast-track to promotion, as is your colleague, C.S.O. Linda. I can assure you of that. We need good C.S.O.'s, who can think on their feet -- and think outside of the box. Oh, and I am hereby increasing the first-offence sanction, that I set for community servant David double-oh-seven, this morning -- doubling it, in fact. I shall now be stopping his Unemployment Benefit payments, not for two weeks, but for four weeks. Over."

C.S.O.'s Karen and Linda -- who were only a year or two older than myself, and who had, only last week, been receiving the same £80 per week Unemployment Benefit payments as myself -- were a pair of bullies.

"That's very good of you to say, ma'am. It's good to hear your approval. Because, C.S.O. Linda and I, we ... well, we really and truly believe in our work, ma'am. We believe in the ethics, and in the core values and principles, of the Authoritarian Female Party. We believe, wholeheartedly, in the Party's female-friendly agenda. We both agree with all of the A.F.P.'s aims and aspirations, ma'am, and are proud to be members of such a finely motivated political movement. Over."